When Two Worlds Collide
by EliCa
Summary: When Harry lives in the Muggle world but works as an auror, he doesn't really expect his two worlds to collide in such a spectacular fashion, leaving himself and Ginny to pick up the pieces.


Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with the series.

**When Two Worlds Collide**

**By EliCa**

**Chapter One**

It was that awkward time of year just after Christmas and a little before the New Year. At the same time of recovering from the excesses of Christmas, one has to prepare for the excesses of New Year's Eve, all the while subsisting solely on food that would already be in the bin at any other time of year.

Harry Potter sat alone in his flat, pondering the television. It was essentially an ornament, as Harry never really put his recently acquired ability to watch whatever he wanted to use. Even if he did, there was seldom anything worth watching, especially just after Christmas. He sighed. It was now a week since Ron and Hermione had got married in a lavish ceremony and abandoned him to explore continental Europe. He had spent two days of Christmas with the Weasley's, but without Ron there, and with his ex-girlfriend Ginny, it was a little awkward.

Now he was just killing time before he trudged to Dean Thomas' New Years Eve party. Harry really wanted to be at the party downstairs for the New Year, as the hostess was a particularly attractive brunette called Melissa that he had had his eye on ever since he moved in. She seemed to find him amusing as they exchanged occasional greetings at the front door of their block of flats and seemed to be almost pleased to see him when they passed each other by.

Considering the problem, Harry started to pace the flat. Perhaps he could call her at her flat and ask her what she was doing for the New Year, and hope that he could get invited that way? No, that was far too forward. But if she was hosting a party, then she was going to need to buy supplies at some stage, in which case they could 'accidentally' bump into each other on the stairs, and they could strike up a conversation…not _too_ much like a stalker, and not too reclusive either.

He glanced up into the mirror hanging haphazardly on his wall. He looked well fed (courtesy of Mrs Weasley's Christmas extravagances) but pasty from the winter. His black hair (still messy and perhaps just that little bit too long) and stubble accentuated his white skin and bone structure. He took off his glasses and his reflection disappeared into the blue blur of his walls. Rubbing his eyes he sighed again. He wasn't feeling quite up to the challenges of chatting up Melissa. That could wait until he had at least shaved and had enough sleep. So he went to bed right then, in the middle of the day.

He woke up just before dinnertime. He felt much worse after such a badly timed nap and could almost feel himself smelling. Ignoring the instincts to wash or put some trousers on over his boxers, he wandered into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. As there was no milk, he drank it black with plenty of sugar. Harry sighed with pleasure; this drink was exactly what he needed to perk him up. He felt so positive that he even tried to see if there was anything to watch on the television. No surprises when he found an ancient romantic comedy on BBC1, a documentary on houses on BBC2, a crime drama on ITV and low-brow comedies on Channels 4 and 5. The set was immediately switched back off and he decided to have a shower.

The day was starting to end before Harry had even used it for anything. As it was the penultimate day of the year, it somehow seemed even worse to be wasting time. Harry therefore resolved to tidy his flat before having an early night, a run in the morning, read lots of newspapers and books before going out to get absolutely wasted in the evening. But none of this plan would work if he didn't have any food or cleaning materials, so he had to go out to the shop at the end of his road.

As he reached the front of the flat…he should have known what was going to happen. It was sod's law that his life seemed to be governed by. Luckily it wasn't a 'if I destroy this it's bound to kill me, but if I don't Voldemort will live forever' kind of situation. It was of a…

'Hello Melissa' kind of thing. When he hadn't even looked in the mirror before he left the flat. But at least she was smiling.

'Hello Harry. I haven't seen you for a while, have you been busy?'

He had been busy, he'd been on an undercover mission for six months, for which although he had still lived in his flat, he had to work shop assistant hours. They were long and unrewarding. He didn't know how anyone could try to survive on the pay they offered him.

'Yeah work has been crazy, it's great to have a bit of a rest.' He paused for an awkward cough. 'Do you need a bit of a hand with those bags?' Harry had been remiss; he hadn't even noticed the four bulging carrier bags at Melissa's dainty feet.

She looked extremely grateful as she said 'yes please' and Harry could see why. They were full of alcohol and weighed a lot more than he thought one person should carry all the way from the off-license at the end of their road.

Carrying her bags gave Harry the opportunity to have his first extended conversation with Melissa during which he did manage to get himself an invite to her New Year's Eve party.

'I can't believe that you're not doing anything tomorrow.' She exclaimed as she unpacked the bottles on her kitchen table.

'Well my friends are all kind of spread around the country this holiday, seeing family and friends from home, that kind of thing.' It was a lie, but Harry didn't feel bad. 'It was easier not to try and force something to happen as I could get some work done on New Year's Day if I wasn't hung over.'

She raised her eyebrows flirtatiously. 'So you don't want to come, you'd prefer to work…?'

He smiled and leaned hard on the kitchen table so he was just a tiny bit closer to her, 'oh of course I want to come. I hate my own company.' She laughed lightly and turned to put the wine in a rack. He took the opportunity to look at the clock. The shop was about to close and he was running out of witty conversation…

'Melissa, I just have to run to the shop to grab some milk for tomorrow. Do you need me to pick up anything else for you at the off-license or anything? Banners? Streamers?'

'I'm good thanks, but thank you anyway. I'll see you tomorrow though, don't forget.'

'Believe me, I won't,' and so Harry turned away and went to the shops, and motivated by thoughts of Melissa, he tidied his flat and even managed to find something worth watching on the TV before going to bed.

Harry was woken in the morning by the phone ringing. He groggily leaned over to pick up the receiver. Why he slept on the side of the bed furthest from the phone he didn't know…

'Hello?' he mumbled, not even awake enough to wonder who was calling at this time in the morning.

'Harry, it's Ron, how are you?' Ron sounded excited.

'Asleep.'

'Asleep? Oh, what time is it over there?'

'Six-thirty. Don't tell me now that you forgot time differences exist Ron, because I was having a really nice dream.'

'Yeah I know, about that woman downstairs. Well I don't really care about that. Hermione and I thought that we should call and see how you were getting on. Make sure that you weren't just going to sit and drink yourself into a stupor by yourself tonight.'

Harry tried to stifle a yawn, but it didn't really work. 'No – tonight I'm going to Melissa's.'

'The girl from downstairs?' Ron commented, slightly incredulously.

'Yep.'

'Just the two of you?'

'No' Harry said with a slightly regretful tone, 'she's hosting a party and invited me. I had to write to Dean last night to tell him I couldn't go to his. It looked like it was going to be a good gathering, but I couldn't pass up Melissa.'

Ron hummed thoughtfully. 'Well, don't foul up tonight.'

'Like I ever do!' He made a scathing noise. 'Anyhow, how's the honeymoon? Are you two still being disgusting?'

Harry could actually hear Ron grinning. 'Oh yes, very disgusting. We got thrown out of a bar last night when we were caught hav…' Harry interrupted Ron in the middle of his speech.

'I don't want to know. Really, I don't. Is Hermione around as well?' Ron said that she was and passed the phone over to her.

'Harry, you would love it here! Prague is just simply beautiful, a bit full of tourists, but there's some fascinating history. Ron complained a bit when I took him to the Wizarding Quarter, but then he perked up when we saw Katie Bell with her boyfriend. Ron knows her much better than I do of course, but apparently the boyfriend was a Hufflepuff a few years above us and is quite a famous Quidditch player now. Are you there Harry, you're a bit quiet…'

'I'm fine Hermione, you just woke me up that's all. Nice that you saw Katie though, I think that she's going to Dean's tonight with that boyfriend tonight.'

'Ah yes, I heard you saying to Ron that you're going to Melissa's tonight instead of Dean's. You know that there are probably going to be several disappointed witches at Dean's that were going to try and nab you.'

'I'm sure they'll get over it. I can send a note saying that if they are more beautiful than Melissa then they _can_ nab me.'

Hermione sounded scandalised. 'You chauvinist!' Harry laughed.

'I'm not that shallow, I promise. But I am a man, and I have a man's needs.' Hermione tried to interrupt, but Harry wouldn't let her. 'You can't talk Hermione, you married Ron and I heard that you couldn't even contain yourselves in a public place.' He chuckled again. 'Disgusting behaviour…'

Hermione was uncharacteristically quiet. 'We weren't exactly caught…more like rumour got around. Anyway Harry, we have to go. Ron promised me that we could walk up to the river once more before we leave for Budapest. Have a good time tonight won't you?'

'Of course.' Harry wished them both a happy new year and goodbye before putting the phone down. His room suddenly seemed much smaller, no longer full of cheer from Prague. Harry was motivated to push back his duvet, throw open the curtains to let the darkness stream in, and then mournfully put his winter running kit on as he realised that it was still cold and wet outside.

When it rains in London it isn't necessarily miserable. Yet when it's the morning, and it's cold, and it's wet, the effect on a person's soul is only slightly less devastating than a dementor. The streetlights reflect orange back from every surface coated with moisture, creating an artificial glow around the entire city. The glow steals the mysterious joy true darkness can bring. Harry ran through this environment, puddles splashing up to his ankles, water slowly absorbing upwards until it started to reach his knees. At that stage, Harry turned around and ran all the way back to his flat.

The entire day Harry was checking the clock to see how long it was before he had to start getting ready. As he prepared turkey sandwiches (turkey that Molly Weasley gave him after Christmas Day lunch) he counted eight hours. Catching up on the wizard and muggle news (mainly just synopses of the year just past and predictions for the year ahead), the time passed until there were only six hours to go. He was pleased to read that The Daily Prophet was predicting increased wizard and muggle relations following the election of a squib for muggle Prime Minister. Not that the muggles knew, of course. The Times was simply predicting 'a hard year ahead' for the Prime Minister as something or other was due to come to a head.

With so long left, he decided he could pamper himself in the shower and get ready for the party extremely slowly.

Getting ready could of course include becoming so absorbed in a book that he fell asleep sprawled on his bed. Eventually he had succeeded in getting ready so slowly that he was fashionably late without even having to contrive it.

'Harry you look fantastic,' greeted Melissa, wearing her hair sleekly tied back.

'And you look good enough to eat, I don't think that the hostess could be outshone tonight.' He smarmed, feeling thoroughly greasy as he spoke. Luckily she just smiled and appeared to be flattered rather than disgusted. She led him in to the flat, which had been utterly transformed.

When Harry had been there before, the wooden floors dominated, making the environment seem flat and cold. Now that the space was full of people wearing clothes that reflected the lighting in bright blues, reds, and golds it was warm and festive, exactly what this time of year was supposed to be about. Holding his glass of champagne and chatting amiably with Melissa, she gradually led him through the groups chatting on the floor to a couple standing by the window.

'David, Samantha, this is Harry who lives in the flat above.' Melissa turned to face Harry, 'David works in publishing, and Samantha works for a sports group in the Netherlands. You two will love this, she said, facing her friends, 'Harry works for the government. Now,' she said apologetically, 'I'm afraid that I have to disappear and refill some drinks – the duties of the hostess'. Grimacing with false pain, Melissa moved off, abandoning Harry to his fate.

'So you heard the noise and had to come down, eh Harry?' Smirked David.

Harry thought that he might as well make a go of it, even if David did seem to be a bit of an…he wouldn't judge. 'Yeah, it's havoc with all of the parties going on down here. Almost like living above a nightclub.' He paused to allow his companions to look around and see the quietly chatting groups, and he took the opportunity to take a large gulp of champagne. 'So which area of publishing do you work in David?'

'It's newspapers and journals mainly. My firm owns the top selling quality dailies in ten countries. I don't know much about what's going on in government like you I expect though.'

Harry shifted uneasily. 'Well, I'm more involved in policy implementation…' he saw Samantha and David look distinctly unimpressed. Of course, what Harry said was pretty much rubbish, although Ministry policy was to cut magical crime, which was his job as an auror.

'Well it sounds much more interesting than my job I promise you.' Samantha commented. Harry was dubiously impressed at the attempt to make policy implementations sound interesting, but at least Samantha had joined the conversation. 'All I do all day is sit at a desk and write about how good sport is when I don't get around to doing any myself.'

'But how come it's in the Netherlands?' Harry asked

Samantha smiled, 'well because I'm Dutch, it made sense. But I've been seconded to work over here for a little while representing my firm in England.'

'You're Dutch?' Harry said a little incredulously, her accent was absolutely perfect, he hadn't picked up on it at all.

'I know, it's impressive isn't it.' David added before taking a deep swig of his beer. 'Now Harry, your policy job, does that include things like terrorism?'

Harry considered for a few seconds. 'Well, it's more along the lines of transport policy. Ensuring that new regulations on leaves on the lines are enforced.' Harry didn't know where _that_ one came from. 'We don't even get to be involved in any exciting politics.'

'Oh yes I am so pleased to be in England now with the election coming up. I hope that the nice man with the small dog in all of his pictures wins.' Samantha enthused. David snorted.

'My dear, if he were to get into power, the country would become positively poverty-stricken. I'm supporting the other man, he's nice and sensible and has been really rather good over the last few years. What do you think?'

Harry felt like a child scrutinised in school with the eyes of David and Samantha so thoroughly focused on him. 'I'm a civil servant, I can't have an opinion.' They all relaxed. 'But I do think that we all need to be plied with alcohol, so hang on…he turned around and picked up three glasses of champagne from the sideboard. 'So how are the Netherlands nowadays Samantha?'

She looked a bit out of place. 'Wet' she said straight-faced. 'There is a lot of water, but it is very well thank you. My family send me word that it's well and surviving without me.'

'I heard that Amsterdam is getting a bit raunchy for everyone over there. Sounds quite fun, but that's because Britons are a bit perverted really.' Harry said, trying desperately to make conversation flow away from the normal jobs jobs jobs talk.

Samantha giggled, which was unexpected…but not disliked. 'Well I live there when I'm at home – so I love it. My family are traditional and stay in any city apart from Amsterdam, they think that I am terribly rebellious. Actually, they're a bit worried that I'll turn into a perverted Brit if I stay here much longer.'

Harry raised his eyebrows. 'Really? Well we can't offer you anything like a city full of drugs and whores, but we do have Brighton, which is pretty eccentric – but extremely enjoyable.'

'Ah yes, I think that I went there with my ex-boyfriend. He took me to a pier, I think. It was fun walking onto the water with all of the music, but I ate so many doughnuts that I was nearly sick over the side.' She laughed at the memory as Harry grimaced with her.

'Very nice. I don't think that I'd take a girl down to Brighton, it's a bit too full of shops for a peaceful day out. London has enough to offer anybody for dates without having to resort to shopping.'

'Such as…?'

Harry scoured his mind for the best date he had ever initiated. Failing in that, he made one up. 'Street theatre's good, or comedy. Perhaps even something weird like making your own clothes in an art college…I don't think that my ex would've liked that one though.' Harry finished thoughtfully.

'Oh, why not?' prompted Samantha.

'She thought that artists were pretentious pricks and wasted everybody's time and money. She does have a point, but it means that trips to anything except the oldest art galleries are out of the question, which is a shame as they all have free entry.'

'Oh isn't love a silly thing. We cut things out of our lives just to please someone else, half the time just assuming that it is what they would want.' Samantha mused.

'You sound as if you speak from experience.' Harry looked down at his glass of champagne, and noticed that it was already empty. He looked up to ask David and Samantha would like another one too, he noticed that David was no longer standing next to Samantha. 'When did he go?' Samantha shrugged, but indicated that yes, she would love another drink. When he returned they picked up the conversation where they had left off. The pattern of conversation fuelled by champagne continued throughout the night, even as the music was turned up and people started to dance on the makeshift dance-floor. Harry and Samantha sat down on the vacated sofa about just before midnight.

'But seriously though, what kind of person would seriously _invent_ something like sex? It's the most ridiculous thing I have yet encountered in this world - and I've seen some weird things.' Harry said passionately.

'And that's the reason that you aren't religious?' Samantha made a disparaging noise. 'I see what you mean though - sex is odd. Can you think of another time you'd say 'ok, let's wear no clothes and make lots of weird noises whilst we mess the sheets up'?'

'No. I mean, not unless it was sexual. I wouldn't for tennis or anything. But even then, everything, and I mean everything is to do with sex. I went into town the other day to buy some books for my friend, and the poster in the front of the shop was some woman only covering herself with an oversized atlas or something. It doesn't take long to think of selling books like that – but why? Why should it work? Do us fickle men really think that if we buy an atlas we're going to get laid?'

Samantha giggled, which seemed more natural by now. 'Did you buy one?'

'A what?'

'An atlas of course.'

'Oh yes, and I got ravished on the street as soon as I left the shop.' They laughed together until the television was turned on in the corner and the countdown began.

'Now, Harry we have been talking for about four hours now,' started Sam, 'and so I think it would be extremely…and I mean, really very rude if we are not…' but she didn't get to finish her sentence, as Harry had kissed her even before the chimes had begun to sound, ringing in the year. That was the vein in which they continued for the rest of the night, until stumbling and fumbling they ended up in Harry's bedroom. Miraculously, they had managed to continue kissing even whilst walking into the room.

Sam made a throaty noise that could only be made through complete abandonment, but then she pulled away from Harry's face.

'Wait, this is stupid.' She said, not entirely convincingly as she was making no effort to stop Harry undressing her. Dutifully he made a noise as if he agreed with her. 'I mean it,' she continued, 'we would regret this in the morning.'

Harry looked at her. 'You're right. We'd wake up and it would be horribly awkward.' He kissed her again. 'Obviously sex is the last thing that we should be thinking about.'

Sam nodded as she leaned in again to Harry and pulled him on top of her as she fell onto the bed. 'Obviously.'

That was the last word of sense said that evening.


End file.
